


The First Law of Thermodynamics

by ellewrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Dubious Science, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Frottage, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Science Boyfriends, Soulmates, Vaginal Fingering, yes characters die but it isn't meant to be depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellewrites/pseuds/ellewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They thought for a moment about faith and wondered if maybe like B he could just believe it would be true, that they would never have to be apart, and they wouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yesterday (Roman Republic)

**Author's Note:**

> Created for Science Bros Week 2016 on tumblr. Not exactly playing to my strong suite here so. Hopefully this fic turns out at least mediocre -- ha! ;-)

Antony chugged back the cup of wine, relishing in the gust of wind through the atrium that ruffled the hem of his tunic, trying to ignore the drone of Brutus’ recitation as he lounged naked on the sofa behind him. At least it wasn’t fucking Gaul. Not that _The Voyage_ was much more interesting to Antony, but at least it wasn’t fucking Gaul. He’d had enough of _that_ country to last him several lifetimes.

He gulped down the last mouthful, wiping his chin with the back of his hand as he stared up at the stars through the inky black square in the center of the atrium. Though he loved war, loved the feel of it – the energy, the chaos, the strategy, the victory – Brutus’ villa was especially nice too. Plentiful wine, high quality foods, plush furniture, fabulous company… most of the time.

“Oh will you stop?” Antony teased, turning back to his lover, gloating over his perfect round ass and those incredibly long legs.

Brutus looked back over his shoulder at him, wild and gorgeous hair catching the lamplight and practically glowing, mock indignation written all over his face.

“You do not think Caesar writes impeccably?”

“I do not think I very much care,” Antony replied as he picked up the jug of wine and, finding empty, headed towards Brutus whose own glass he knew was untouched beside him.

Brutus sighed, exacerbated, but that’s not all there was. He shifted to look at Antony, and Antony could feel his eyes on him, studying him as he lifted the goblet to his lips. This respite had been nice for him – clearly it had been for Brutus as well. He often assumed Brutus didn’t think much of him while he was gone, that he meant more to Antony than Antony meant to him, but perhaps he was wrong.

“Ah, that’s right, glorious _legatus legionis_ Antony can speak to Caesar whenever he wants,” Brutus joked as he shifted to his back, pillowing his hands beneath his head as he leaned back and watched Antony swallow his wine.

He could joke all he wanted, but Antony saw the way Brutus’ own words made his dick twitch, rousing it from its slumber. Brutus liked Antony’s rank and his position, his muscled body and his power – even if he were to try and deny it.

Antony finished most of the wine, reserving just a little in his mouth as he leaned over Brutus, placing a hand on his throat, up under his chin, tilting his head back and kissing him. For a moment Brutus sputtered, not expecting a mouthful of wine, but he swallowed deftly and kissed back, biting Antony’s lower lip so hard he jolted.

Brutus laughed as Antony pulled away, pressing his fingers to his lips and drawing them back to check for blood. He glared, which only seemed to amuse Brutus more, and though he wanted his pride to be wounded, he found he could never stay mad at Brutus while he was laughing.

“I’m going to go back to women,” Antony announced cavalierly as he picked up the bottle of olive oil from the neglected tray Brutus had fixed for them earlier in the day. “They are smoother –”

“I’ve shaved!” Brutus declared, waving a hand down his chest before Antony planted a knee on the sofa between his legs.

“– they talk far less –”

To this Brutus merely rolled his eyes as Antony tilted the bottle, watching the golden liquid as it hit the delicious dip between Brutus’ clavicles, streaming down between his smoothly shaved pectorals, down his abs until it reached his belly button, pooling there and diverting course, slipping down his hip.

“– and they are far less cruel.”

Brutus laughed at that, his dick fully hard now as Antony let his fingers slip up the trail of oil along his chest and across to one pretty brown nipple, and he gasped at the sensation.

“I’m perfectly convinced you’ve never met a woman,” he managed, voice a little stained but just enough to spark the fire in Antony’s gut.

He kissed under Brutus’ jaw, biting as he played absently with his nipple. Brutus attempted to turn his neck and reconnect their lips, clearly eager and trying not to squirm.

“Get this off,” Brutus teased, pulling at his tunic with a hint of desperation that made Antony’s lips curl.

Antony stood and pulled it over his shoulders, watching Brutus’ eyes as he took him in, gaze raking from his muscled torso to his erect cock. He leaned back down to kiss him but Brutus touched the scar on his chest, halting him just before their lips met.

“Sometimes I feel you must have died and the shade of someone I used to know now inhabits your body,” he murmured, making Antony pause.

They had met after his injury, a nearly fatal blow straight to the chest, barely missing his heart. Though the spear hadn’t killed him, the following infection did its best to try, but Antony fought it for a hard month before triumphing over it. Still, he was on leave to recover, and his physician introduced him to Brutus at a party. Antony certainly wouldn’t deny their immediate chemistry – and yes, it did at times feel otherworldly. Yet though Antony was practically missing a month of his life, he wasn’t so morbid.

“I’m going to miss you terribly,” Brutus whispered, his hand pressed flat against Antony’s chest, covering the ugly purple scar – and then he understood.

Antony kissed him, more gently than he usually did, the backs of his fingers brushing Brutus’ chin.

“I’ll return to you as Jupiter –” he pressed the promise against Brutus’ lips “– crowned with victor’s laurels –” his tongue touched Brutus’ bottom lip “– and I will lay them at your feet.”

He kissed Brutus passionately then, trying to reassure him. Antony wasn’t scared of death – he stepped towards it every time he took the field. He had literally stood at the doorway, closed his eyes and reached out for it. But until now, Brutus had nothing to fear, no one death could take away that it hadn’t already.

Antony slid his hand down Brutus’ oiled chest, slicking his palm in it and grasping at his dick, feeling him moan into his mouth. And he pressed himself bodily against the other man, sweat gleaming in the lamplight, feeling Brutus’ hips roll against his own, his dick slide against his own. They panted and groaned – Antony’s fingers in his hair, his mouth on his neck, his nails in his back – each delicious twist of friction dragging them closer to the edge. Brutus’ climax triggered his own, feeling him come against his body, his muscles tense, his mouth falling open in that beautiful display of uninhibited pleasure.

There was a moment where Antony let his forehead rest against Brutus’, relishing in the lack of oxygen between their open mouths, kissing half-heartedly at his lips. But suddenly for Antony it was too much and he stood, swiping at his body with the discarded tunic and repining the lack of wine.

He stepped out into the atrium, thankful for the cool night air as he dipped a bucket in the pool and poured the warm water down his chest. It felt wonderful on his oversensitive skin and he watched from the corner of his eye as Bruce joined him, a dark shadow in the moonlight, slipping into the pool silently.

They said nothing to one another – what was there to say? Antony wasn’t particularly forthcoming with his feelings and Brutus had already confessed the vulnerability of his own heart. They both knew this day was coming. And yet…

The starlight shone on Brutus’ face, pale and handsome, and Antony wondered if Brutus wasn’t _Mors_ himself – that when he had reached towards death he had found it. If it were so, Antony couldn’t be persuaded to care that his life was truly over. These past few months of recuperation had been the easiest in his life. Everything with Brutus was easy – except, apparently, goodbye.

Trying to be strong, Antony drug himself away from the vision of Brutus bathing and wrapped a towel around his waist, heading towards his room to decompress. But he only lay there a few minutes before he sighed and sat up, rubbing at the back of his neck in frustration. This was stupid.

Antony stood and walked down the hall back to Brutus’ room, glancing towards the atrium to make sure he wasn’t still there – but it was vacant. He cleared his throat when he reached the doorway, watching Brutus’ eyes shift towards the entrance in the soft lamplight.

“Ah!” Brutus exclaimed quietly, setting down his reading as Antony approached, eyes downcast in his refusal to acknowledge this pathetic display of affection.

Antony tucked himself up tightly against Brutus’ body on the bed, resting his head on his chest and listening to the sound of his heart beating, feeling Brutus run his fingers through his hair, soothing him.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he whispered before he fell asleep.

But that was yesterday. And today Antony was miles away, riding to meet his legion, no longer able to see the villa in the distance – though he still glanced over his shoulder occasionally to check. Or maybe just to reminisce. Either way, tomorrow he would wish he had made sure Brutus heard him. And next month, as he lay among the stink of bodies slowly bleeding out with him, he would wish every day was yesterday and that he had never left.


	2. Spark (Middle Woodland Period)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done research and intend no disrespect but I have taken some liberties with the names and language here given there is no recorded writing from the Hopewell culture. I have based their names on a list of registered Shawnee indigenous people from the late 1700’s and early 1800’s. I decided to use Shawnee names as the Shawnee are thought to have derived from the Hopewell culture in Ohio where this is based.

Sparks flew in the air and Tahkaska grinned as he stepped back, watching the coals glow angry and red, slowly igniting the carefully positioned wood he’d added to the pit, licking between the branches and lapping at the fiber. He leaned back in, blowing gently to encourage the flame as he fed it leaves. It was amazing to watch – the fire. Alive in its own way.

Tahkaska glanced back towards the main group of houses, watching as the deer – already skinned and prepared for roasting – was speared to be put over the fire. They’d done well today. He said a silent prayer of thanks for all they had been given.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned his attention past the gardens to see Bonnisui heading into the treeline and grinned. His friend was probably off to his favorite hideout, trying to prepare himself for dinner. He liked to be alone. Tahkaska didn’t really understand it, but he liked Bonnisui so he forgave him his antisocial nature… though he didn’t always allow him to get away with it.

Tahkaska called back to the others to watch the fire as he sprinted off towards the gardens, laughing at the admonishment of his family behind him for his irresponsibility but he was still young and he took advantage of that.

He flew past the rows of corn and squash and beans, the wind whipping his hair back as he fought against it, slowing only when he entered the forest. Quickly he stalked Bonnisui on the balls of his feet, silent as the wolf. He caught up quickly, knowing the direction the other boy was headed in, and was just about to pounce when his foot cracked a branch by accident and Bonnisui turned. 

“Got you!” Tahkaska cried anyway, leaping towards him but he only caught the tail end of Bonnisui’s grin as he darted away.

Tahkaska laughed as he played pursuit, feet moving so quickly they barely left indents in the soft undergrowth as he passed. Bonnisui was fast, faster than most people estimated, and he had an amazing amount of balance and self control. He could pause and lead Tahkaska on, letting him get so close as to almost touch him just to flit off in the opposite direction. Tahkaska could chase him for hours and never grow bored of this game. Their laughter rang out through the trees, sending birds streaming through the canopy and squirrels and rabbits scampering away.

Finally they crossed the creek, Bonnisui dashing through unphased, his feet splashing up a beautiful cascade. Tahkaska hesitated just a moment, trying to plan a path through the clear water to the other side, to no avail. For his second step faltered as his foot hit a slick rock, causing him to slam unceremoniously into the stream, with a face full of cold water and a sharp jolt of pain. 

He lifted himself up with a cry mostly born of embarrassment, reaching for his face to make sure he wasn’t horribly disfigured as Bonnisui laughed on the river bank. But quickly his laughter ceased and he stepped forward, taking Tahkaska’s face in his hands. 

“You’re bleeding,” he commented quietly, a thumb on either side of his nose, feeling gently along his tender face for anything broken. 

Tahkaska sniffled a little and tasted the copper of blood on his lips. He glared at Bonnisui, knowing the hurt look in his big eyes would make him feel guilty for laughing, but he was taking advantage of having his undivided attention. At the very least, he wouldn’t lie to himself. 

“It doesn’t feel broken,” Bonnisui announced at last, dropping his hands. “Just a bloody nose. Come on – wash off your face and get out of the creek.”

Bonnisui reached down into the water as he walked away and playful splashed water back at him. Tahkaska huffed.

“You deserve it for thinking you could catch me,” he called and Tahkaska bent down with a half-hearted glare, cupping his hand and filling it with water to clean off his face.

“If you had stayed and helped with dinner preparations I wouldn’t have had to chase you,” Tahkaska accused, bloody water dripping down his chin.

A glint of anger flashed through Bonnisui’s eyes but he quickly let it go as Tahkaska pressed his hand to his upper lip, drawing it back down to look at it, trying to gauge if his nose was still bleeding. 

“Soon I won’t have a choice,” Bonnisui muttered as he splayed his toes in the soft dirt on the river bank.

Tahkaska slicked back his wet hair and joined his friend on the ground, sitting next to him and laying his head on his shoulder. He knew Bonnisui had always felt like an outcast – that he didn’t belong. He liked to spend his time in thought, sleeping in, going out on the mounds, studying the stars. He prefered gardening to hunting and prayer to parties and none of that was exactly strange, but Bonnisui had an unfortunate awkwardness in his long limbs and a stutter in his speech when he was nervous and the other kids had picked on him mercilessly his whole childhood for his strangeness and now that he was nearly a man he couldn’t help but be resentful. 

“I’ll be there,” Tahkaska murmured, looking up at him but he was looking away, despondent.

“Why you?” he asked at last and Tahkaska blinked and sat up again, unsure of what he was asking or if he was angry – but when Bonnisui turned to look at him it was with nothing but affection. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?”

Tahkaska laughed and pushed his shoulder. “Because you have, dummy. I’m four moons older than you.”

“No, I mean…” Bonnisui sighed and flopped down on the soft, stunted grass, throwing his arm over his face, burying his nose in his elbow, frustrated by his inability to say what he meant with ease.

But Tahkaska was patient with him – always – and he waited, falling back with him and turning his attention to the fading sun and the darkening sky, the babble of the creek, the hum of the insects coming out at night.

Bonnisui finally turned his face to him, eyes shy and face pinked and Tahkaska pressed his palm to Bonnisui’s, lining their fingers up. There was something like a spark, like fire igniting between their palms, and the warmth spread to the tips of Tahkaska’s fingers, filling him with heat way down to his soul. 

“It’s like the way the fish knows the stream and the bird knows the wind.”

A slow smile spread it’s way across Tahkaska’s lips as Bonnisui’s face glowed brighter than the sunset. 

“Like it’s always been that way, for us,” he tried to continue, seeing how it pleased Tahkaska so much to hear that confession. And then he slipped his fingers between Tahkaska’s, squeezing a little. “Intertwined.”

For a moment he just stared into Bonnisui’s dark eyes, knowing his own face was just as red now, his whole body humming with pleasure. Because he knew what Bonnisui meant. He felt exactly the same. 

“Like the mother knows the moon,” Tahkaska whispered back, moving in to kiss him.

They had never kissed before. Tahkaska had thought about it, sometimes, watched the way Bonnisui’s lips moved, wondered what it would be like to kiss him but… it never seemed like the right time. Now though, with the sky growing dark and the stars coming out and the warmth of their bodies tucked up against each other and Bonnisui’s candor – it felt perfect. Everything felt perfect. 

Their noses bumped and Tahkaska bit back a little gasp as his was still sore and Bonnisui paused, uncertain. But Tahkaska’s smile set Bonnisui at ease again – in turn helping Tahkaska feel more confident – and he moved his face a little and tried again.

His lips were soft and warm and Tahkaska reached out to touch Bonnisui’s cheek. He didn’t flinch and Tahkaska slipped his hand back through Bonnisui’s hair, cradling the back of his head as he pushed forward a little more, teasing his tongue out to lick Bonnisui’s lip. 

Bonnisui gasped and Tahkaska grinned. It felt good – really good. Great in fact – amazing. A way he had never felt before. Like the spark they’d held between their hands had set his whole body on fire and he was burning, burning up to be with him. 

Tahkaska pulled back, chuckling breathlessly at the way Bonnisui’s mouth hung open, waiting for more, his eyes closed, dark lashes against dusky cheeks. He couldn’t help but kiss him again, savouring it, trying not to get swept away in the current of his heightening desire.

Again Tahkaska stopped but he slipped up close to him, his lips on his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin through his swollen nose. He could think of a million things to say but every time he tried to speak he couldn’t get the words out and he wondered if this was what Bonnisui experienced every day. And for a moment Tahkaska felt a pang of empathy he never truly felt before because he understood better now why their connection meant so much to Bonnisui – because although he was full of words and thoughts and ideas, there was nothing Tahkaska _had_ to say. Just resting against him, like this, their hands still slotted together – he knew Bonnisui understood everything within him, the way he had always understood Bonnisui.

And without saying a word, they got up together and headed back to the community, only letting go of each other’s hand when they reached the treeline. But Tahkaska smiled at Bonnisui, and Bonnisui smiled back, and just like always, there was that spark – and Tahkaska felt warm despite the chilly fall air.


	3. Fury (Mughal Empire)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been intentionally avoiding names other than those of Bruce and Tony’s characters and so it might not be obvious but this is based just before the War of 1875 with the British East India Company. I have done as much research as possible in the limited amount of time I had to write this. If there are any errors, please let me know, and I will be glad to correct them.

The music was infectious as Akshara swirled her bright red and gold brocade skirts, pounding her heels on the floor to the sound of three hundred bells expertly rung in time with the _tabla_ and the _sitar_ behind her. She watched Balraj as she moved across the room, her eyes never really leaving him, the way he discussed quietly with the dark, hawkish man next to him. It had taken almost three months to make this meeting happen – she would ensure its success.

As she was coming up on the final few moves Akshara fought to contain her surprise as Balraj stood and walked away with some kind of pacifying comment to his guest. That wasn’t exactly the direction she saw this going – hoping instead for a thunderous applause and an enthusiastic demand for more dancing, more food, and more wine upon some kind of agreement between them.

Anxious to meet Balraj, Akshara fell into the beat, moving with seeming effortless grace into a series of impressive _tukras_ , ending in the _tribhanga_ stance and smiling out at the guests who showed their appreciation of her skill in broad smiles and polite applause. Their special guest just stared into his glass and made a comment to his son sitting at his side.

Trying not to rush out, she slipped back behind the musicians and then around the crowd, easily disappearing as her fellow _tawaif_ took the stage in her absence. Akshara moved soundlessly on the balls of her feet down the impressively tiled hallway towards the library, careful not to sound any bells, knowing where Balraj would want to meet her.

She pushed back the beautiful curtains in the doorway and found him staring out across the gardens, despite how late it was and how dark it was outside.

“What happened?” Akshara asked, not even attempting to make it sound like less than an accusation, not having the time to play with his emotions.

“Maybe it’s not meant to be,” Balraj murmured thoughtfully, not even looking at her.

“Not meant… to be?” she asked slowly, dangerously quiet.

“He needs money,” Balraj admitted, turning his face to the side so she couldn’t even see the shadow of it.

“Money?” Akshara was incredulous. “Just money?”

“More than I have to give.” The words clearly hurt him to admit but Akshara had to reign in her frustration so she didn’t explode.

“Promise it to him anyway,” she hissed, working hard not to raise her voice. “His son lost his inheritance to the Company! Does that mean nothing to you? The _tawaif_ – we have worked tirelessly for this. Does _that_ mean nothing to you? They disrespect our religions, they steal our lands, they take the honor and power away from _our_ men! Are you just going to roll over, show your belly? When will you stand up to these British invaders? You won’t have any money left if you wait any longer! Certainly not this house, not this garden or this land.”

He still refused to look at her and Akshara felt her fists tremble as her nails cut into the pads of her palms.

“And what do you think will happen to me?” she growled, biting the words out more loudly than before but she was genuinely fearful and she couldn’t hide it. “The British women are not like _our_ women. They say we are prostitutes. Is that what I will become? A – a _prostitute_?”

Finally Balraj looked at her and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the fury in his eyes. She knew he was a very careful man – careful with what he said and how he looked and what he did. It attracted her to him, how careful he was, but mostly because she saw the caged tiger beneath his carefully coiffed exterior. But Balraj was never a threat, not really – because rarely did she see that tiger unleashed.

“Do not _dare_ accuse me of failing to think of you.” Balraj’s voice was soft but clearly heated, eyes widening with threat. “Everything I do I think – how will this affect Akshara? What will happen to Akshara?”

For a moment it seemed as though he was going to reach out for her, grab her, maybe shake some sense into her, and her whole chest felt tight, like she couldn’t breathe, waiting for the violence she knew him to be capable of – but he did nothing but stand there like stone, like he was willing himself to maintain control.

“What if this gets you imprisoned – or worse?” he continued, emotion conflicting on his face as his voice wavered. “I don’t – I don’t want anyone else to touch you!”

Balraj moved in suddenly, quicker than Akshara could process, and he crushed his lips to her mouth hard. Startled, she placed her hands on his chest, pushing back against him, separating them so she could look into his eyes. Possessive he usually wasn’t – and looking into his eyes she could tell that he wasn’t now. Not like _that_. But he was desperate, he was scared – and he loved her.

Akshara slipped her hand up into his dark hair as she pulled him close again, kissing him with unreserved passion. Although she had indulged in this kind of relationship before, after meeting Balraj… It was him – and only him. She had been with more attractive, more powerful, more wealthy lords than Balraj but… it was different with him.

“I know we were together in a past life,” he whispered quickly against her mouth, his fingers deftly slipping the ties on her robe. “I only want to act in such a way that I get you in the next.”

She gasped, stomach pulling in as Balraj’s hand slid beneath her pants, fingers reaching out for her. Her own fingers twisted in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as he touched her, knowing just how to do it to make her whine. It was hard, and she pressed her face so hard against his that it hurt, trying to contain her need between their mouths.

His fingers were wet with her as they slid between her lips, stroking in tight circles. Her robe had fallen open, exposing her breasts, and though Balraj’s other hand was on the small of her back, steadying her, each heavy breath had her nipples rubbing against his robe and the friction was exquisite. The peal of tiny bells as she shifted was the only sound besides the harsh, ragged breathing between them and Akshara tried desperately to keep her feet still so as not to alert a wayward guest as to their presence.

Balraj had always been an extremely attentive lover and even this brief moment together was no exception. Akshara felt fully overwhelmed by him. His lips on her lips, his tongue in her mouth, his scent in her nose, his hand in her pants, his chest heaving against hers – he was everywhere, everywhere, and she was helpless in his arms.

She cried out, this pitiful little whimper muffled by biting her own lip, burying her face in his neck and she clung to him as she felt orgasm roll through her, just trying to stay standing. Akshara’s arms trembled as she moaned his name and he simply held her – held her close. Balraj’s hand moved up to her neck, pressing his lips against her hair, mumbling incomprehensibly as she slowly came back to herself.

Akshara wasted no time in relishing the moment, immediately refastening her top as soon as she could reliably put her weight back on her feet and Balraj did look a little disappointed by that, but then – he understood. This wasn’t about them – it had never really been about them.

“I’ll give him everything,” Balraj spoke quietly, watching her as she put herself back together – no longer looking out the window, for which she was grateful. “If that is what you’ll have me do.”

She raked her hands through her hair, dark eyes studying him, his former fury replaced by resignation and acceptance.

For a moment she softened and stepped back towards him, long fingers stroking the hair back from his brow, tucking it carefully behind his ear. Leaning up she planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” she murmured as she drew away enough to meet his gaze again, watching his eyes soften with the tender confession. “I only want to secure our lives _now_ so that I can do so freely.”

Akshara caught the way his mouth tightened just slightly and she knew Balraj, a pessimist in the extreme, didn’t actually believe such a thing was possible. And while she felt sure that she _had_ known him in a former life, and that he would stop at nothing to find her in the next, she also very selfishly wanted their time here, because now was the only time that she knew to be certain. The risk of waiting until the next life to find him was too immense for Akshara to fathom.

Balraj said nothing more and Akshara could only offer a small, sad smile back as she quickly slipped down the halls to return to the party. She smoothed her robes as she went, ears picking up the faint sound of music and singing as she grew closer, knowing the voice and easily able to imagine her friend on a pillow with a sitar in hand, mesmerizing the crowd.

It was easy to sneak back in and she watched as a few moments later Balraj walked in, appearing confident if not enthused. But he brought over a large vessel of wine to offer his guest, an endearing though somewhat forced smile on his face. Although she was trying not to be obvious, Akshara couldn’t tear her eyes away as she watched him pour, watched as they talked quietly between themselves a moment, careful not to compete with the performance.

But the guest couldn’t possibly keep his excitement to himself as Balraj announced his help and a flutter of hope beat in her chest. Their eyes met for just a second, clandestine, across the room – but that was all Balraj needed to say _I love you, too_.


	4. Momentary (Great Depression)

 

It was cold in the desert. Colder than you would expect, really. Colder than Anthony had expected, anyway. But he supposed he couldn’t really complain. They had gas in the tank. They had plenty of blankets. Tonight, they had even had some bread and butter. And of course, they had each other.

Bryce was smiling softly, the communal firelight flickering off her face, and he couldn’t help but study the perfect curve of her chin, her full cheeks, the beautiful bow of her upper lip. Her thumb stroked over the blue thread she’d woven into a lacy handkerchief her aunt had given her. She had started it the morning they were married – the day they left – embroidering their names and the date into it with flowers flanking it.

Anthony hadn’t known Bryce to be sentimental, but it was kind of endearing to see her like this. The past few weeks had been hard. They’d set out with such optimism but slowly it was spiraling into a wicked depression. Every town they came to telling them to leave. Every night spent in the company of other hungry travelers with depressing stories shared around a thrown together campfire. Honestly, he was impressed with her ability to be so unaffected. But then, he supposed she’d had her fair share of depressing in this life. This was nothing new.

“Well hello pretty lady,” Anthony said with his most charming grin as he swaggered up to her, watching her cheeks flush and her lips draw into an unamused pout. “Is this seat taken?”

“I guess it will be,” Bryce teased, flitting her eyes up to look at him and immediately drawing them back down to her knees.

He sat down beside his bride and Bryce helped Anthony blanket the sheets she was wrapped in over his shoulders, thankful for their warmth. But he was always warm with her, as cheesy as that sounded, even to him.

Anthony watched as she carefully folded the handkerchief and tucked it into the top of her blouse before she lay her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply. She had never been very big but when he wrapped his arm around her waist he could feel the bone in a way that sent guilt gnawing at his gut. Sometimes he wondered if leaving really had been for the best.

However, as soon as he followed that thought to it’s logical conclusion he would remember there wasn’t much at home to keep them there. Bryce was just one more mouth to feed for an already overextended aunt. His family farm was blighted and no one could afford a mechanic. Plus, his parents were less than thrilled with his choice of a Protestant girl and would be livid if they knew they were married – not even his mother would support him on that.

Anthony tried to clear his mind as they watched people talking quietly among themselves, trading the limited items they were able to carry, offering advice. Watched a pack of kids playing chase in the distance, flickering shadows streaming across the road beyond. Watched a woman breastfeed her baby and another, pregnant woman laying her toddler in the back of a wagon as they settled in for the night.

He had thought about it – of course he had. When they lay out in his family’s field and counted the stars together, not entirely unlike this. He would think of how radiant Bryce would look carrying their baby, her belly growing every day, feeling that tiny little person inside her kick his hand for the first time. Maybe it was strange for someone whose childhood was spent with with an abusive father, a mother who refused to give up Italy, and slurs hurled at him in school – but Anthony had always wanted to be a father. To give a child something better than he had been given. Now it just seemed cruel to bring a child into this world – a world where he couldn’t get a job and couldn’t even feed his wife.

Anthony buried his nose in her dark hair and kissed her head as he stared up at the stars. Although the sky looked pretty much the same, he felt like he was a million miles away from home... if home was such a place that even really existed. Certainly not back with a mother who was quickly losing her mind, buried in dreams of a life she no longer lived in, and a father who would probably kill him if he showed back up. Granted he’d stolen his car and told Bryce that his father had given it to them but he figured that if he was going to piss him off marrying a Protestant girl, then he might as well piss him off over something that mattered. But the point was that he couldn’t return. And Bryce? She has never really had a home after her parents died. So they had nowhere. They had no home.

And he was selfish enough to dream of having children. Fuck.

“It’s cold,” Bryce murmured, somehow sensing his distress and patting his hand where it rested on her hip.

He stood and helped her up, carrying the blankets to the car. Anthony cracked the windows a bit as she got settled in the back seat, laying some blankets on the floor for him. He shut the door, locking it, and lay down, staring up at her in the darkness and she stared back, letting her hand fall down the side of the seat to stroke at his messy dark hair.

“Do you want something?” Bryce whispered, trailing one nail-bitten finger across his cheek to his lips, tracing across the bottom one.

Anthony shivered – he couldn’t help it – but the whole idea of having sex repulsed him and he hated that he couldn’t enjoy being intimate with his wife during the first few weeks of their marriage without feeling sick, without worrying that she would get pregnant and lose the baby to starvation or worse – get pregnant and carry the baby full term only to have it die from starvation once it was here.

He turned away, burying his head in the blankets and trying to suppress how much he wanted to cry. Not that he could anyway. It was just – it was exhausting. It was constant, never ending. Ever since he’d met Bryce, windswept hair blown across her face skipping down the dirt road completely lost in her own thoughts, horribly embarrassed when she noticed him watching and chewing him out for being a pervert with cheeks bright red, he thought of nothing but making her his wife. And now that he had, he couldn’t even be happy.

“Shhhh,” Bryce comforted, running her hand through his hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Anthony shook his head though, looking back up at her, feeling weak and pathetic, feeling like his whole chest might collapse.

“How can you say that?”

A small smile graced her lips and Bryce ran her thumb across his cheek the same was she ran it across that little handkerchief, the only worldly possession she still had that she gave half a damn about.

“Everything changes – nothing ever lasts,” she answered and Anthony snorted, strangely uplifted by that ridiculously negative mindset.

“Okay, that’s depressing,” he replied, voice a little shaky but growing stronger.

She smiled back, that big smile where she tried to hide it by biting her bottom lip, like she was scared if she smiled too big it would be taken away and Anthony couldn’t help it – he loved that smile.

“No,” Bryce answered, schooling her face into passivity but keeping her hand on his cheek, connecting them. “Eventually you’ll get a job, even if it’s not as a mechanic, and we’ll find a place to live. This is all momentary. This can’t last forever, because nothing ever does.”

Anthony couldn’t help it – he laughed. It was a short, strangled thing but it was a laugh none-the-less. And he pushed himself up and kissed her – gently, tenderly. He could feel her smiling into the kiss – the one time she truly allowed herself that, where no one could see it. But Anthony didn’t care because her smile was his and his alone. It was _his_.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he breathed against her lips – eyes closed, face pressed close to her’s – hesitant to part from her lips when he could still feel that smile on her face.

“Lucky for you, you won’t have to find out,” she mumbled back, grinning as she kissed him again, sliding from her seat down into his lap.

Although he was scared, she clearly wasn’t, and they made love wrapped in blankets in the back of the car, fogging up the windows in the cold desert night. And for a long time they lay tangled up together in the back seat of the car, warm under the thick swaddle of blankets and sweat. Bryce fell asleep on him, her face buried in his neck, but for a long time Anthony simply lay there, listening to her snoring softly and feeling her chest move against his.

 _This can’t last forever_ , she’d said, _because nothing ever does_ – but Anthony couldn’t help it. Despite the fact that this wasn’t what he’d imagined – sleeping in the backseat of a car instead of in a bed, on the open road instead of in an empty home just waiting to be furnished – he wanted her, like this – cautiously optimistic and smiling – for the rest of his life.


	5. Blue (Present Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say thank you to one_golden_sun and her beautiful wedding for the inspiration here. <3

Toni whipped the car into the parking deck, grinning to herself as she parked and checked her reflection in the rear view mirror. Today was _the_ day – finally. It had been an entire year since they’d gotten the right to marry and Toni had proposed that very morning as they lay in bed, watching the news. But although she had eagerly agreed in the moment, ever the pessimist, Bryce kept delaying it with some excuse – the law would be challenged, their state might fight it and invalidate their marriage, she didn’t want to go through that pain, they shouldn’t just jump into it because it was legal now. 

Fine, Toni was patient. Well, not really, but they had been together for four years already, they were engaged, she certainly wasn’t going to dump the love of her life over understandable cold feet. Bryce had never really expressed any particular interest in marriage, not the way Toni had, and Toni respected her feelings on it. But then one day she stood with Bryce in a craft stop staring at embroidery thread with confusion as Bryce pulled an old fashioned handkerchief from her purse and compared blues. 

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” she’d muttered, not even looking back at Toni, who arched one delicate eyebrow as she studied her fiancée. 

“And how exactly would we do that?” Toni inquired after a moment as Bryce held up the handkerchief and three different flosses to the light.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something _blue_?” she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Toni couldn’t help but laugh.

But Bryce – her intelligent, fastidious, perfectionist Bryce – continued her preparations, studying that handkerchief and poring over books on embroidery before ever putting a needle to it. Eventually she showed it to Toni, anxiously sharing her work and looking for approval, which Toni readily gave. And Toni came to find it was passed down in Bryce's family for three prior generations. That her mother had stared at that same handkerchief on her wedding day and thought – “if I have a daughter, I’m going to name her Bryce.”

“Do you see the date?” Bryce asked, running her finger along the soft and worn thread. “1932. Can you imagine? Getting married in the middle of the Great Depression? My grandmother was born the next year.”

But Toni was more focused on the fact that her fiancée’s namesake had married a man named Anthony. “Don’t you think that’s kind of creepy?” she asked. “What if they called him Tony?”

Bryce just rolled her eyes and turned back to her work, tying little knots at the ends of stamen jutting from her perfectly constructed flowers. 

Never-the-less, Toni played into Bryce’s sentimentalism and dug through a stack of jewelry she never wore for her mother’s pearls for their something old. And then she bought Bryce a strand to wear as well for their something new. Bryce already had something blue and she told Toni she would have something borrowed covered. 

Toni toyed with her bangs a little, wanting to look perfect for Bryce. It was the lowest low key wedding on the planet, probably – they agreed to show up to the courthouse on their lunch break and just get a court witness, only exchanging readings and no actual vows. In fact, Toni had to talk her into not going back to work and instead celebrating downtown with an expensive hotel room and plenty of room service. 

“It’s just a wedding, Toni,” Bryce had sighed, picking at her nails. “It won’t change anything.”

Although she had tried, Toni never really got to the bottom of what Bryce’s issue with marriage was. Of course, her parents' marriage had failed spectacularly, her father walking out on her mother when she was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. That should’ve been enough to explain it, except that Toni’s parents didn’t have the healthiest marriage either and Toni was hell-bound and determined that it didn’t have to be that way.

Her heels clicked on the stone outside the courthouse as she met Bryce from the metro stop. She smiled as soon as her eyes landed on her beautiful bride standing in a business casual black dress with a face full of dread looking for all world like she was attending a funeral. It made Toni laugh. 

“Don’t look too excited,” Toni warned and Bryce huffed, crossing her arms over her chest – but as soon as she opened her mouth, Toni interrupted. “And don’t you dare say ‘let’s get it over with’ or no jacuzzi bath tonight.”

Bryce glared as Toni leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the mouth, whispering a soft “I love you” before leading the way into the courthouse.

They met the justice of the peace that they had e-mailed with briefly in the previous weeks and he got a clerk who was just coming in from her lunch break to witness, knowing the ceremony was going to be short.

Toni was suddenly nervous as Bryce pulled Cosmos by Carl Sagan – presumably her something borrowed – from her purse and Toni slid a piece of printer paper from the pocket of her white pants suit. The justice was saying something about them coming together for a wedding but Toni couldn’t hear with the blood rushing in her ears. Her heart was pounding and she was staring at Bryce, somehow totally sedate as she watched him speak, wondering how she could possibly be so calm and self-assured now after how much she had fretted over this for the past year. 

“Bryce?” the justice asked, looking at her, and Toni tried to catch up with what was going on, afraid that she had missed it. “Would you like to go first?” 

Bryce simply nodded and swallowed – the only tell that she was nervous at all – before opening her book to a page she had bookmarked.

“Toni,” she started, looking up at her with those deep brown eyes for a moment before turning her attention back to the book. “The size and age of the Cosmos are beyond ordinary human understanding. Lost somewhere between immensity and eternity is our tiny planetary home. In a cosmic perspective, most human concerns seem insignificant, even petty.” 

Bryce paused and swallowed again, somehow seeming to shrink with that line, her shoulders closing in around herself – but then her voice grew stronger and more confident as she continued. 

“And yet our species is young and curious and brave and shows much promise. In the last few millennia we have made the most astonishing and unexpected discoveries about the Cosmos and our place within it, explorations that are exhilarating to consider. They remind us that humans have evolved to wonder, that understanding is a joy, that knowledge is prerequisite to survival.” 

She paused and through wavy, watery eyes Toni could tell Bryce’s hands were trembling and Bryce took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she looked back up at Toni as she recited from memory. 

“We float through this Cosmos like a mote of dust in the morning sky. For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.”

There was a moment of silence where Toni worked desperately to reign in her swirling emotions and she couldn’t help but laugh this tiny exhalation of exhilaration and nerves because it was perfect. Bryce was perfect. In all vastness, she had found her floating on the same blue dot in space. 

And when the justice said her name gently, prompting her to start her reading, Toni wiped at her eyes as she unfolded her little piece of paper nervously, unsure that she could recite anything so evenly as Bryce did at this point, and she was in the running for damn CEO but… it was Bryce. And she loved her. 

“It’s your favorite,” she said, breaking the convention they had agreed upon but then Toni never could help but over talk when she was nervous. “Robert Frost.”

Bryce beamed back at her, lifting Toni’s confidence as she began, voice wavering – 

“ _No speed of wind or water rushing by  
_ _But you have speed far greater. You can climb  
_ _Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,  
_ _And back through history up the stream of time._ ”

Toni paused and stole a quick glance at Bryce, her whole face glowing as she grinned, chewing on her lower lip, watching Toni intently with nothing but love. And as Toni continued, a smile slowly spread over her own face with every practiced word.

“ _And you were given this swiftness, not for haste,  
_ _Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,  
_ _But in the rush of everything to waste,  
_ _That you may have the power of standing still –  
_ _Off any still or moving thing you say.  
_ _Two such as you with such a master speed  
_ _Cannot be parted nor be swept away  
_ _From one another once you are agreed  
_ _That life is only life forevermore  
_ _Together wing to wing and oar to oar._ ”

They exchanged rings – simple bands per Bryce’s request, since she was a scientist, not a housewife – and accepted each other's hand. And though Toni had held Bryce’s hand a thousand times, now it felt new, now it was really her’s. Despite her hesitation, Bryce had done that for her. Because Bryce loved her.

“Now you may – if you so wish,” the justice said with a chuckle, clearly as pleased by their little ceremony as they were, “kiss the bride.”

They exchanged a quick, polite kiss, signing the required paperwork and leaving the building hand in hand. It wasn’t until they were in the comfort of their own car that Toni turned to her wife, grinning just to think it, placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her hard. Bryce reciprocated eagerly, laying one hand over her own, twining their fingers together. 

“Thank you,” Toni whispered against her lips. “For letting me be yours forever.”


	6. Illuminate (Mars Colony)

The sound of Bruce panting and Tony’s legs smacking into the back of his thighs drowned out all the other noise in the shitty little private room Bruce was afforded as the head of botany in the colony housing complex. His bed was a travesty, having been all fucked out by this point – not that it was great when they’d met honestly – and the whole room smelled like sex and sweat after two minutes. At this point, condensation was practically running down the shitty prefab metal walls. For Tony, who was rich on Earth and had only set foot in a place like this a couple times on drug deals, it was almost novel. He wondered how Bruce ever grew up here.

“Tony!” Bruce gasped, cum shooting across his stomach, face twisted in pleasure, and Tony licked at his sweaty lips, grinning down at Bruce as he dripped sweat on him, fingers slipping on his thighs as he tried to get deeper in the last few moments before his own euphoria.

Tony cursed as he came, collapsing on Bruce’s spent body, burying his face in Bruce’s neck, feeling his heart flutter and skip a few beats from years of hard synthetic drug use. The flashback made him physically shudder. Fuck, Bruce felt good. Hot. Nearly too hot. Tony’s senses were heightened for a moment, skin blissfully oversensitive. He could hear Bruce’s heart pounding in his chest – strong, not like Tony’s own, steady. He hated how he loved it.

To avoid feelings Tony sat up, running his sweaty hands through his sweaty hair and letting his arms fall to his sides.

“We have to stop doing this on odd days,” Tony joked, wishing for more than the every-other-day five minute regulated shower. “I’m getting into a pressure suit tomorrow reeking of sex.”

Bruce made a wounded face – he always did when Tony joked like that. Being a Martian, born and raised – well. He was starved for physical affection, surrounded by high-tech outlaws on what basically amounted to a penal colony. There were a handful of other unfortunate Martians, but they only thought of Bruce as the kid who’s father famously killed himself in protest of their living conditions by walking outside the colony ozone layer and taking off his pressure suit. Fucked him up real good, watching his father die that way. No one figured out what to say.

But Tony had meant to spend his fifteen years court mandated sentence keeping his head down and working on whatever the hell Mars could throw at him in relative freedom compared to the alternate option of fifty years in a maximum security prison among actual _murderers._ Bruce wasn’t supposed to happen. But he did. He just made it so damn easy by gladly claiming every ounce of the boundless energy Tony had to throw at him. Now he had to deal with the consequences.

“Don’t be so rough, babe,” Tony sighed, stroking his hand up Bruce’s leg as Bruce looked away, sweaty hair plastered against the flimsy pillow.

Instead of sulking until Tony was practically begging to kiss him and bite his lips – the way he sometimes did when he was in a mood – Bruce rolled away and reached for the cubby holes where his clothing allotment was haphazardly stashed, hitting Tony in the chest with a pair of regulation grey shorts size medium.

“I thought we could snuggle,” Tony whined sarcastically, looking up at him as Bruce hit him in the face with a shirt.

“Come on,” he replied evenly, donning his own pair and it was rare that Tony couldn’t figure out what Bruce was thinking so Tony complied, curious.

They wandered through the dark metal halls of muffled conversation and music together. Tony wasn’t so lucky to have a private room like the Martians and the volunteers – as a convict, he was stuck in the barracks in another section of the colony. But he had walked this pathway enough times, spending most nights with Bruce.

Silently they passed through the empty cafeteria and through several engineering areas that Tony was familiar with, having worked in nearly all of them, and he figured they were headed to the biodome. Tony couldn’t help being a little surprised – unlike the gardens, the biodome had one of the highest security clearances and though Bruce had let him in a few times, he hadn’t since Tony carved “T.S. + B.B.” in the oldest tree on Mars and Bruce decked him.

Bruce pressed his hand to the door and it lit up green, allowing them in, and immediately Tony was overwhelmed. He couldn’t help but gasp and he heard Bruce chuckle behind him. Tony had never been here at night, but it was _gorgeous_.

Bioluminescent plants illuminated the whole garden, spread out as far as he could see, blending into the starlight beyond the peptide-polymer conjugate ozone layer protecting them from the harsh Martian cold. There were green glow mushrooms growing up trees that he had never noticed before, blue cones and spiky looking things he couldn’t guess the name of, purple moss hanging from tree branches, pink flower-looking things blossoming across the ground to the experimental pond floating with purple lily pads.

Tony had seen a lot of beautiful things in his life – he grew up rich and immune to them, so immune that he developed his own synthetic drugs to make reality somehow more beautiful. But this? It totally took his breath away.

And then it started raining.

“What the shit?!” Tony shouted, not even angry just shocked. 

Of course Tony had heard rumors of rain in the biodome from the other engineers but it'd been almost two years since he’d arrived and he’d never experienced the phenomenon nor spoken to anyone who actually had. Why didn't Bruce mention it?

He looked at the other man, eyes wide, and Bruce was laughing. Not just that little caustic thing he usually did but a full on belly laugh and Tony couldn't help it – a slow grin spread over his face as he watched.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Bruce wheezed and Tony stepped forward and shoved him. He just laughed harder, doubled over, and Tony turned his eyes from his lover to the sky.

There was something hugely cathartic about it – the rain. Falling from the blackness of heaven. For a moment he closed his eyes and everything else disappeared but the sound of rain falling all around him.

And then when he looked at Bruce again, he grinned.

“You said you wanted a shower.” Bruce shrugged and Tony reached for him, putting a hand on either side of his face and kissing him breathless.

“You're fantastic,” Tony mumbled against his lips as he pulled away and Bruce blushed. “How come you never told me about this?”

Again Bruce shrugged. “It's a secret.” Then he sighed, chagrined. “And, well. Our reclamation rate is still shit, like thirty percent, and no one wants to know we waste those kind of resources twice a week. If it was even close to sustainable...”

“Right.”

Tony closed his eyes again, cool water pricking at his skin. Amazing. Funny how bad he had missed the rain. The things you take for granted...

“And you – you engineered this?” Tony asked when he opened his eyes again, looking around through the dimly lit garden.

“Oh, no,” Bruce denied. “I've helped some of them become more viable, but most of my work is still in the nursery. I've been working on some bioluminescent lichen though that I'd love to show you but my focus has been on soil enrichment and getting this rain program viable for full colony use.”

“Still,” Tony sighed, “it's awesome.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed quietly. “It's a world where we can create anything we want.”

Tony found that a strange comment for a Martian to make and bumped Bruce’s shoulder with his own and laughed. “You've never even been to Earth.”

“Does it matter?” Bruce asked, looking away, the tone suddenly uncomfortably serious. “Earth got rid of you.”

Tony snorted, trying to lighten the conversation a little. “You know there _was_ a reason for that.”

“Maybe,” Bruce replied, sounding skeptical and refusing to be amused. “But you're here now and we can make this place in our image.”

“What like white picket fences and all that shit Earth used to have before the last ten billion?”

Instead of answering, Bruce murmured so quiet Tony almost didn't catch it beneath the sound of the rain falling –

“Would you like that?”

For a second Tony hesitated but then in a moment of weakness he reached out and grasped Bruce's fingers as he whispered –

“If I'm with you.”

They were silent for a while after that. Rarely was Tony prone to that kind of confession, even prior to his internment on Mars. Until that moment he thought of the shuttle trip as nothing more than a spectacularly shitty detox, of Mars as nothing more than an elaborate prison, of Bruce as nothing more than a distraction, albeit a wonderful one he happened to be falling in love with. But now as he stared out through the biodome, for the first time he thought maybe he saw this planet the way Bruce did – like it was home. Like one day there would be streets lined with plants just like this, kids kicking footballs across square yards while bright yellow glow flowers blossomed as the moons came out like some perverse version of an antiquated home movie and for some reason Tony felt like he couldn't breathe.

When the rain stopped they let their hands fall apart as they wandered back to Bruce's room to dry off. But when they went to bed Tony wrapped himself around Bruce and couldn't let go.


	7. Arrival (Post-Station Year 13,207)

Ton-E watched the easy fluidity of their partner at the controls as they flung by Jupiter en route to Earth. They had been together over a hundred and fifty years now and though Ton-E could hardly remember what B looked like when they met in the Markarian blazar on a dark matter extraction team, they thought the grey hair spreading from his temples was quite elegant and handsome. They wondered why they never noticed it before.

“It's amazing this galaxy even still exists,” B commented absently. “Sol has been a red giant for a while now. We probably got here just in time to see Earth.”

Ton-E chuckled dryly, trying to ignore the sharp pain in their chest. It hurt to even breathe anymore, the carbon-based synthetic polymer grafted to their bones and organs to retain their body structure was finally spearing through their flesh everywhere as their body slowly deteriorated and Ton-E was out of options. Their body must finally succumb to the dissolving bone disease that was slowly eradicating humanity.

“Don't laugh,” B criticized, frowning over his shoulder but Ton-E didn't care – all they wanted was B’s eyes on them for a little while longer.

“Give or take a couple thousand years,” Ton-E wheezed, trying not to wince. 

They hated when B saw them in obvious pain but it was becoming more difficult to hide. Ton-E was sure B knew anyway, even though he never let it on, but especially on this trip... There was no denying it.

However B did them the favor of denying it and one of his brows arched, lip quirking up at the corner.

“Do  _ you _ have a couple thousand years?”

Ton-E smiled and closed their eyes, chest shuddering with silent laughter. They appreciated B's morbid sense of humor maybe most of all his wonderful traits. 

They fell silent as B turned back to the control panel, setting up the energy dispersal machination they had developed together. The technology had been on the verge of viability for years now but Ton-E wasn't exactly sure it would work. Still they knew they were dying either way – it didn’t really matter if they died painfully as their body fell apart or in a bright flash of light. From the moment of diagnosis they knew it would happen. Most of their relationship with B was plagued by developing better materials to improve and lengthen the quality of their life but there was nothing left. This last resort was the only option. It was just that B wasn't.

Ton-E closed their eyes and focused on breathing, face twitching in pain with every few breaths. They hated this. They thought it through a thousand times during the flight and still came to the same conclusion.

“Please don't do this for me if –” Ton-E started but stopped when B looked back over his shoulder to glare. 

“You’re so selfish,” he muttered as he slowed the shuttle for their rendezvous with Earth.

For a moment Ton-E let the comment go, but it rankled. And the longer it settled between them the more aggravated they became.

“Selfish?” they finally asked, irritation leaking through even in their weak voice. 

There was nothing less selfish than they could imagine than to let their most cherished partner go live out the rest of his life without them rather than undergo a procedure that essentially amounted to an experimental time machine at best. And at worst...

“How do you expect me to go on without you?!” 

B was hunched over the control panel, voice strained, shoulders shaking, hands balled into fists. He couldn’t even look back at them. For the first time Ton-E got a clear picture of just how this was really affecting their partner. He was so good at hiding it, so good at focusing on solutions, he easily hid his true feelings from Ton-E. 

“Let me see you,” Ton-E asked in a breath, chest tighter than normal even given the polymer encasing their lungs and holding them together by a thread.

B turned, face flushed, tears streaming down the green sheen of his skin as he motioned to the view screen, trying to act casual, like he wasn’t crying. 

“We've arrived.”

There was a moment of silence where Ton-E could do nothing but stare at his partner, their heart aching for him and his pain. Physical pain was nothing in comparison to what he was experiencing. 

“Come here.” 

It wasn't a command, but a request. Ton-E had been bound to a chair for the entirety of this journey and B had been very respectful of their limitations but they had no right to demand anything from him. B deserved better than that. 

B walked towards them, choosing to continue to ignore the fact that he was crying rather than wipe his face. Still, Ton-E thought he was never more beautiful than then, the last time they would see him like this.

“Closer,” Ton-E requested and B complied, very gingerly settling himself into their lap.

Ton-E grinned as wide as they still could, relishing in the little they could still feel of his contact through dying skin. There was nothing they wanted more than to be able to run their fingers through his hair, wipe away his tears, place their hand on the back of his neck, pull him down into a deep kiss the way they used to. How one regrets the things they take for granted upon their death. Ton-E lifted their hand as much as they could, falling woefully short of his neck. 

“I just want you to be happy,” they mumbled but B just smiled – a sad but genuine smile.

“I've only ever been happy when I've been with you,” he answered, pressing a long but delicate kiss against their lips. “Even the mere chance at spending eternity with you is better than a moment without.”

Ton-E thought if it were possible for their heart to break any more than it already was, then it was in pieces now.

“Help me hold you,” they whispered, beyond the point of the pride and embarrassment that was characteristic of their life.

B helped move their arms, Ton-E taking the pain of the unmalleable polymer as quietly as possible, their limbs no longer flexible with so little organic matter left to fuse with. But B managed to get their arms around him and with the bit of strength they had left they held him as close as they could. He buried his head in Ton-E's neck and they listened to the sound of him breathing, so nice and even. It still seemed a shame to cut his life short so early – but there was nothing Ton-E could do while they were so paralyzed, nothing they could say to change B's mind.

For the first time since they're arrived in Earth's orbit Ton-E looked up at the viewfinder at Earth – a horribly ugly crater-filled planet devoid of ozone, water, or life. Once they had seen a picture of the little blue dot in space but that was so long ago now it seemed hard to believe. This was the planet they traveled all this way for, their best chance at having their energy redistributed through time together. This was home. 

“Isn't it amazing that we've gone so far and never found another species like us?” B spoke into his neck and Ton-E took a shuddering breath as they continued to stare out at Earth.

Earth. Only Earth. Where it all started – where it all would end.

“What's amazing is that I found you,” Ton-E breathed, chest painfully tight, their difficulty breathing intensifying with the weight of their feelings bearing down on them as well as their imminent death.

“That's why I believe we'll always find each other,” B murmured as he pressed a hand to their chest, feeling the shallow way they breathed now encased in all that polymer and knowing as well as they did that it was time. They couldn’t wait any longer. “Our time here was cut short, but we are  _ meant _ to be together – in every life, in every universe. Please don't ask me to forfeit that chance.”

“Never,” Ton-E sighed, managing to nuzzle their nose into B's hair and purse their lips in a weak imitation of a kiss – such a far cry from what they wanted. 

B sighed, content, not moving his face from Ton-E's neck as he signaled the computer one handed to initiate the energy dispersal machination’s programming. Ton-E had no fear of death, not really. Or at least they had come to terms with the reality of it years ago. This diagnosis was an early death sentence, everyone knew that. But still, now that this was real, now that it was finally happening? Their breath caught and their arms tightened more than they thought possible around B, a pathetic and futile attempt at protecting him from the particle combustion engine they'd developed. Ton-E just couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go.

“I love you,” B whispered, the whirring clink of machinery almost overpowering his voice as the machination charged, growing exponentially louder in seconds. 

“I love you,” Ton-E mouthed into his hair, unable to even hear themselves speak over the deafening sound of the machine. 

Although Ton-E had never been a religious being, they thought for a moment about faith and wondered if maybe like B he could just believe it would be true, that they would never have to be apart, and they wouldn’t. If the solid belief that they were meant to be together through eternity would bring their energy careening back to one another like dark matter and multidimensional lock. And though Ton-E was nothing if not a skeptic, in those brief seconds before combustion they closed their eyes tight and allowed themselves to believe with all their heart that B was right and that that was the truth.

In the final moment a flash of brightness shot through the shuttle, burning through their eyelids and into their retinas before ripping apart their corporeal form to the barest building blocks – to energy. But they never felt a thing. For then – they were gone. 

The shuttle was empty. 

Silence.


End file.
